


Mind Game

by justlikeabaroness



Series: Folie à Deux [2]
Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Blood, Eye Trauma, Hostage Situations, Knifeplay, M/M, Masochism, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Rough Oral Sex, Sadism, Smut, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-16
Updated: 2016-08-16
Packaged: 2018-08-08 02:31:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7739995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justlikeabaroness/pseuds/justlikeabaroness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's heady to know he's right - his Lu doesn't want to be patronized; he wants to be in control, and the quickest way to show him that he's in control is to take it from him at his behest. It's that simple, and Sehun didn't understand.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mind Game

At this hour of the night, the neighborhood of Dongdaemun tends to shut down somewhat; the knockoff stores have all closed for the night, the bargain hunters have gone home or hooked up with the hot girl buying the last pair of fake Louboutins behind them in the queue. But there are enough people around that the noise is nearly constant - the innate, insensible hubbub of living in a city, even in a slightly less wealthy area, always persists. It should camouflage most sounds.

Kim Minseok hates it instinctively.

It reminds him too much of Korean normalcy - every other street in Seoul looks like this, with the same flats and the same washing lines and the same ahjummas yelling out the window at wayward kids. Probably the same abuses going on behind the same damned doors.

He shifts the burden currently leaning half-upright on his shoulder, wincing as Oh Sehun's mostly-unconscious body rests heavily against his. By rights, Luhan should be the one dealing with his own trash, and yet Lu can't, or won't, stay still. He's all but pacing in the elevator as it rises slowly to the top floor, trying to keep himself calm. Still, he's angry, not scared. Minseok knows.

The elevator disgorges the three of them onto the penthouse level, Luhan walking ahead with the keys while Minseok wordlessly helps the third member of their party along, as if supporting a drunk friend with the funereal nerves of a man headed toward his angry wife. It's an ancient tale in Korea, and even if anyone is around, he doubts they will be noticed.

Luhan opens the door, holding it wide as Minseok guides Sehun stumblingly inside. The flat is spacious, but not ostentatiously so; it has a larger than usual main room, and that's where they leave Sehun, who puts up no resistance as Minseok ties his legs together. Luhan does the same to his wrists, porcelain face unmoving, despite the fact that they'd drugged the boy almost an hour ago, and he hasn't come out of it yet. Ketamine and lidocaine in a tiny syringe, jabbed into the back of the shoulder like a bee sting; one half hour later, the boy had simply gone limp. Minseok knows he isn't dead, though; he can hear the boy breathing like an alley cat, desperate and cornered.

Eventually, Sehun is secured, left to flop awkwardly against the arm of the uncomfortable couch, eyes quiescent and out of focus. Minseok stops for a moment, collecting his breath, clearing his mind and trying not to let anger cloud his judgment. And yet, he is angry. He's seen Luhan's phone, and the messages left on it. He's seen Sehun's confidence, his conspiratorial tone, his insinuations, his drunken honesty. He's seen the disregard for Luhan's denials, for a polite but firm refusal and a thanks-I-have-a-boyfriend.

He speaks, though he knows ketamine can cause memory problems and he may be talking to the proverbial wall. It doesn't matter. "I bet you don't even know why you're here, so I'll enlighten you." Minseok tries to keep things calm, despite how much emotion is simmering under the surface. He waits for a reaction from Sehun, but there is still nothing. It feels strange, as if he's speaking to a mannequin, but then again, mannequins don't breathe like air escaping a balloon, hissing and clawing.

He continues. "You're here because our mutual friend asked for my help." Minseok doesn't need to acknowledge Lu's presence; it permeates everything around them, though this is Sehun's flat. "Apparently his telling you no wasn't enough for you to listen."

He sees a flicker of movement on Sehun's face, maybe one patrician eyebrow raising and falling? Either way, it's an encouraging sign that he isn't wasting his time talking. "I've seen the texts, okay?" Minseok can feel the bile in his gut start to agitate like a washing machine, remembering, trying to stay calm but losing the battle. "The casual ones, sure, but the ones after he turned you down?" Luhan has told him that they dated for mere months before he left. But months is still too long - far too long. The image of this casually manipulative fuckboy getting to be with his gentle love for longer than ten minutes makes his muscles tense. "That's not okay."

The text messages Lu showed him flash across his face like the lash of a whip, and he shoves his own phone near the boy's face, with the forwarded messages front and center. " _We had good times, Han. Why don't you want to keep that going? It'd be an experience._ " Minseok reads in a high, false, sarcastic tone, designed to hit the boy where it hurts. "Really? This trashy bullshit is what you send _him_?" It's honestly what makes him hate Sehun even more - Luhan is far above seedy, sweaty dance floor pick-up tactics, but this interloper thinks he might succeed anyway, just because he's who he is. Tall, semi-handsome, semi-rich. Semi-human.

"Minseok." The word is soft, a complete volte-face from the shaking, poorly-battened-down, vibrating anger Luhan has been telegraphing all night.

He understands on some level. It's not about the choice of words Sehun used. It's about his total inability to take rejection. "Some of it's personal," he says, not looking back at Lu. Well, really, all of it's personal - if Lu is scared and annoyed, so is Minseok - but he won't belabor the point. This bastard made it personal.

He quotes another text from Sehun to Luhan, with the same derisive tone as before. " _You deserve somebody who knows what you like, Lu. You can't be happy with him._ "

The look on his face is inscrutable, but it does provoke a reaction from Sehun. He seems to realize, if sluggishly, why he is here in truth, and for the first time in over an hour, Minseok sees movement on that smug face.

He thinks he can see the fear. And he wants to make sure it's validated. 

Minseok almost doesn't want to touch this boy. It's too much like touching Lu, and that's special. He doesn't want the intimacy of that to even come close to this insignificant little worm. In the end, Minseok chooses to think of it as an even exchange; Sehun gets suffering, and Minseok gets to feed off that suffering. It's a wonderful antidote to the kernel of fear in his own heart; this boy bothered and frightened the man he loves, and he gets to hurt for that.

The first slap is hard, but not enough to rattle a man's teeth. It catches Sehun off guard, but he stays upright, mouth open in a groan too soft to hear. "I need to know. What makes you think," Minseok grinds out, "that you _know what he likes_?" He doesn't wait for an answer, instead using his legs, driving a foot into the boy's knobbly kneecap as hard as he can, knowing he's causing pain even if he doesn't get the reaction. Because that's the crux of it, of course; he likely knows just what Lu likes, as well or better than Minseok himself, and that can't be allowed.

Fear drives him. He does his best to transfer his own to Sehun, especially as he takes his switchblade out of his pocket. "Do you like it, too?" Minseok asks, unfolding the blade. "Everyone is different, of course. But do you like some pain?" Without warning, he slashes across Sehun's clenched hands, opening gashes across both thumbs that spray arterial blood like fireworks. Sehun's eyes widen now - that broke through the haze, but the ketamine is robbing him of any coordination he might need to fight Minseok off. Still, he's trying; he looks like a doll coming to life, with features just remembering how to move. He tries to wiggle away from the blade, Minseok can tell, but his muscles don't cooperate.

He hears not a word from Luhan.

He kicks Sehun's other kneecap as a punishment, and this time he hears a louder grunt, low in the throat. "You don't like it?" Minseok taunts, getting in his face. "You don't appreciate that little spice? It wakes up your senses, I swear!" He laughs, letting fly with a harder slap, one that lolls Sehun's head sideways and almost sends his body toppling onto the couch cushions. It's only muscle memory that keeps him upright, and Minseok can see the boy's muscles strain. It makes him think of all the times Luhan and Sehun have probably made love on this couch, and he kicks Sehun in the chest, hard enough to bruise.

Minseok turns away, needing to catch his breath, poisoned by his visions. Luhan smiling and laughing with someone who isn't him. Luhan being hurt in dangerous and slipshod ways, instead of someone inflicting the pain his lover needs at the right time and in the right way. This oily degenerate feeling entitled to time and trouble better expended on lazily jacking off in the shower.

"The trouble with you," he says at the obnoxiously ornate armoire in the corner, "is that you just don't get what you're missing." He turns back around, noticing that Sehun's fingers are beginning to move, undulating against each other as the boy tries to get feeling back into his body. "You think you're hot shit. I know boys like you. You need to learn that there are so many boys in the world who are stronger, and smarter, and better." Better than interlopers and homewreckers who reek of lies and shitty cologne.

He leans down in front of Sehun, while he still can, wrapping his own hands around Sehun's tied fists. Minseok actually smiles, if only because he knows what he's going to do next. "I see you moving," he says, if not pleasantly, at least not maliciously. Not on the surface, at least. "Can you nod? Can you tell me if you actually thought you would get Lu back?"

The effort comes from a place that looks half-populated by fear and half by sheer determined stubbornness, but it comes. Sehun's head rises and falls, eyes dead, numb and feral. He looks Minseok in the eye. In slurred speech, he says thickly, "I'll get him back." His tongue seems to grow too large for his mouth, but he suddenly wrenches his tied, bleeding fists away from Minseok, and raises them high above his head, bringing them down as hard as he can.

The clumsy missile hits Minseok in the side of the head, making his ear ring and sending him sprawling for just long enough. Dimly he hears Luhan yell, but he's focused on revenge. Sehun manages to fall off the couch, avoiding Minseok's wild strike. He tastes blood dribbling from his temple, and remembers ketamine and fear can cause violence.

Blood boiling, Minseok grabs the switchblade, still smiling, and waits until he has an opening. He reacts like a frog catching a fly, grabbing Sehun's flailing hand. He jams the switchblade down into the wound almost bisecting Sehun's thumb, just pushing further and further until he can almost feel the splitting of skin and bone and fascia in his own gut. Sehun is screaming, making all the noise he can, but it's as if his volume dial is turned down to 3, when it should be at a 9. Minseok can hear his own heart in his ears, and it makes him strike harder, press down further, anything to get the noise to stop.

"Lu!" Sehun finally cries out, voice cracked and bleeding like his lips, unwieldy from disuse. "Please!"

Minseok hears his own name shrieked in reply. He punches Sehun full in the face, feeling knuckles open and blood begin to flow, growling and breathing hard. " _Stay away from him_!" How dare this _parasite_ , this fucking _bottom feeder_ , this scum try to appeal to Luhan, after the way he's treated Luhan like a stuffed animal from a rigged carnival game? After he tried to ruin what they have?

It all happens before he can react to it, before he can leash his rage and panic; he hauls Sehun up by the front of his shirt, legs on either side of his body on that hideous couch, and starts to push. Thumbs on closed eyelids, locked like iron cuffs, squeezing, pushing, intent that since this pig is so goddamned desperate to _experience_ Lu, that he shouldn't be able to see Lu ever again. He doesn't hear the screaming, ignores the panicked scrabbling of a weak, addled body under him. He can feel the ocular tissue start to give.

He doesn't notice the touch on his shoulder until it's insistent, almost painful, and lets up. Minseok looks up at Luhan, turned off like a machine, numbly giving way and getting up. Sehun throws himself on Luhan's mercy, panting in terror, scrabbling at his arms with broken fingers, expecting salvation. Minseok hears the incoherent prayers - _LupleasesavemehelpLuIdon'twanttodieplease_ \- but he also sees what Luhan is holding in his noticeably shaking hands. A rock.

Luhan raises Sehun's head, face bloodless and focused, eyes frozen. He does not speak, just holds his former lover's unfocused gaze, and in that instant, while he'd thought he understood before, Minseok understands Lu's anger in now. It's not for Sehun to simply decide that Luhan will be his. It's not for this stripling to set his eyes on 'winning' a prize that comes with agency and feelings and someone who would burn down the world for him if Luhan asked. It's the opposite of flattery; it's a gross insult, cloaked in admiration, and it's no small betrayal - because Minseok knows now that Luhan did love this boy, once.

Luhan lifts the rock, and brings it down hard on Sehun's left eye.

Then the right eye.

Again.

Again.

Blood sprays.

Sehun is sprawled backward, death-mask mouth open and silently screaming.

His eyes are not what they used to be.

Time stops.

Calmly and methodically, Luhan turns around. He goes into the kitchen, where Minseok hears the rustle of plastic bags, and comes back with the bloody rock in what looks like a grocery bag. But he's looking at Minseok with the eyes of a trapped dog - Lu's face is tight, almost numb; the veins in his lithe neck readily apparent, full lips pressed together. Flecks of white matter dot his already-pale skin, and a rogue splatter of Sehun's blood bisects his eyebrow, quivering infinitesimally as he suppresses the frustration and the fear.

Minseok looks back, and he knows his eyes are calm, relaxed, even normal, even if he's still bleeding and full of adrenaline. This is his milieu, but he'd never thought it was Luhan's. Aloud, he says, "You defended both of us."

Luhan doesn't reply until they're out of there, far away, in the first hotel room they can find - love hotels, thankfully, have no desk staff. Minseok has managed to staunch the bleeding from the cut on his head, and as such, he's the one to lead Luhan up the dusty staircase, keeping him close to hide the blood and brain matter on his shirt. Lu still has the rock in his coat pocket, creating a funny-looking bulge over his heart, but Minseok keeps him close anyway.

Once they're locked into the room, Luhan makes a noise in his throat that gets Minseok's attention. Eventually it turns into words. "I hurt you. Us." Luhan's voice is unsteady, as if drunk. "I cared about him."

Abruptly, Minseok has to catch Luhan as his lover's knees fail him, helping him to sit on the end of the bed. "I'm not mad," he says to his beloved, murmuring almost silently, as if someone might hear. And he's not.

"Why?" Luhan's words are barely audible, eyes heartsick. "I wanted to deal with him. I thought we could scare him away. I should have known. We shouldn't have come here."

"What should you have known; that he would get a lucky shot off?" Minseok wants to hold him close, to make it all go away, and reaches for his lover. "It's okay. I promise, Lu."

Luhan flinches visibly as Minseok reaches for him, though, and Minseok realizes, in both surprise and irritation, that he's let Sehun distract him from the real goal, the real joy, what they just fought for. Knowing Luhan inside and out. Lu, _his_ Lu, isn't the gentle type.

So, Minseok slaps Luhan _hard_ , right across the face, bringing tears to those big eyes and sending Luhan gasping, but he hears the hitch of relief in amidst the surprise. It's heady to know he's right - his Lu doesn't want to be patronized; he wants to be in control, and the quickest way to show him that he's in control is to take it from him at his behest. It's that simple, and Sehun didn't understand.

As Luhan tries to sit back up, Minseok slaps him once more, drawing blood, watching him stagger, almost spiraling off the bed onto the floor. He doesn't speak; it feels wrong to talk to the man he loves in the same tone he uses for certain unconscious, bleeding homewreckers, at least here, but he still grabs Luhan and crushes their mouths together, breathing hard out through his nose and doing his best to drink in all he can. Luhan sighs, clinging to Minseok's back, blunt nails digging in hard, but his fingers scrabble, nerves clearly still frayed. Minseok breaks the kiss, looking down at his lover. All he says, softly but insistently, is "Get on your knees." He can still smell blood, and it makes him more impatient, more desperate.

For a second, Luhan looks stunned, and Minseok isn't sure if he has to repeat himself. But then Lu obeys, shrugging his jacket off, biting his lip and sinking down onto aging carpet, reaching for the zipper of Minseok's jeans. The doe eyes are dark now, pupils wide, heavy lids challenging as he pushes the denim away, and Minseok reacts instinctively, grabbing Luhan's straw-colored hair possessively, impatient to deal with his suddenly painful erection. "Hurry up." He has his switchblade in his pocket, and one hand slips around its hilt.

Luhan smiles, obediently mouthing Minseok's cock through his underwear, breathing a little scratched up as if he's been beaten. Minseok yanks his hair again, doing his best to both get himself taken care of and to get Lu out of his own head; it's by far the best tactic to distract with. And now his underwear is gone, around his ankles, skin exposed to the heavy, thick air for a brief snapshot of time before Luhan breathes once, going in, taking his time to swallow as much of Minseok as he can. Minseok is thick, not long, but he smiles, heavy lidded, as he feels himself slide slowly down Luhan's soft throat anyway. He palms the switchblade, starting to relax as the bone handle hits his palm. 

Luhan chokes slightly, but Minseok feels his lover bear down harder instead of easing off. Right away, Minseok can't stop his hips jerking into Lu's mouth, and he can see tears form in Luhan's eyes, adjusting to the feeling. He laughs and keeps doing it, and Lu doesn't protest. "Such a little whore," Minseok says, quietly, indulgently, letting his head loll backward, adrenaline and terror and rage slowly ebbing like draining a bathtub. "You'll do anything for my dick, won't you. It's so hot." It's not a question; Luhan simply sighs in reply, going faster as his cheeks hollow, as his tongue laps at the underside of Minseok's cock. Lu's hands are still shaking, though, even as they coil around his thighs, as one grabs at his ass, as he runs two fingers under Minseok's balls so precisely and slowly that it makes Minseok groan.

It's probably fucked up, but as he whines at Luhan's careful fingers, his head falls back, and he sees the remnants of Oh Sehun in his mind, sprawled backward, face obscured by rivulets of blood, bruises grossly misshaping that arrogant face. He thinks he sees a twinge of movement in the dangling left foot, still disjointedly yoked to the right, color pale as the zip ties cut off circulation. Minseok doesn't care. There was never any game, no competition - just him. And Lu.

At this point, it hurts, but he pulls Luhan off him, yanking his hair backward. Lu coughs and chokes, looking impatient and greedy once he realizes he's been interrupted. "I'm gonna fuck your mouth," Minseok tells him, loving the darkness that pools in Lu's eyes. "And I want to hear you enjoying it."

Luhan is nodding, restlessly trying to resume what he's been doing, wanting to obey his orders. He noses his way from the tattoo of his own teeth marks on Minseok's hip bone, down to his thigh, placing open-mouthed kisses on the tawny skin and following them with biting. Minseok allows it, drawing in a ragged breath as he hears Lu whimper against his inner thigh. Luhan moaning like a slut is one of his life's great pleasures.

Luhan breathes out through his nose, eagerly swallowing Minseok again to amp up the pressure. Luhan's lips are full, so red they might be bleeding, and he uses them to perfect effect. He's dragging his mouth upward and tonguing every angle, every vein, until Minseok can tell he's dizzy and light-headed. He can't, at this point, physically restrain himself from thrusting into Luhan's mouth even if he wanted to, grabbing his lover's hair and hearing Luhan choke and breathe hot around his cock. "Fuck, Lu, God." He's leaning with hands splayed behind him on the mattress, neck loose, hips arching, surprised at his own need.

He can see Luhan trying to reach down, trying to undo his own pants with dizzy fingers as his jaw relaxes around Minseok, but Minseok nudges his hand away with one foot. "I'll take care of you," he mumbles, voice thick, but serious. "Don't fucking do it yourself. Don't you dare."

Luhan whines, and Minseok lifts his switchblade, flicking it open before he can think, laying the steamed-up steel on its flat, directly touching the skin of Luhan's temple. He hears his lover gasp, though he doesn't think it's from fear. Minseok can't help but laugh, resting one hand on the back of Lu's head, pulling his head further down on his aching dick, sighing loudly as Lu works. He can't resist lightly pricking that skin with the switchblade, just enough to bring a needlepoint of blood to the surface. 

Luhan's eyes flutter closed, and he lets his teeth graze over Minseok's erection in a way Minseok can only assume is deliberate. "You disrespectful shit." He's half impressed, even as the anger bubbles. He draws a line across Lu's forehead, scratching the surface of the skin, bringing a razor-thin trickle of blood down around Luhan's eye, painting like makeup. The keening noise that forces its way out of Luhan's fucked throat is beyond unreal.

It makes Minseok dizzy with adrenaline, makes him fuck Luhan's mouth as hard as he wants to, holding onto Lu's head to steady his lover even as he sees the tears starting to trip down the mottled skin of Luhan's cheeks. "You like that, Lu-ge?" It's his secret weapon; _gege_ is Mandarin for _hyung_ , and well, Lu likes being reminded he's in control, even when he's gagging around a dick. Luhan's only response is to try and bob his head even faster, moaning low in his throat, nails scrabbling over Minseok's inner thighs as if to mark him. Minseok hears him breathing hard through his nose, but knows Luhan's wobbling from sheer arousal and sensory overload, instead of terror.

It makes him laugh euphorically, but it turns into a tangled groan as Luhan clamps his mouth tight around Minseok, making his mouth as tight and warm as possible. It pleases Minseok, not only because he's about half a second from coming down Luhan's throat, but also because the shake in Luhan's hands is gone. He can feel it in those hands, grabbing at the smooth lines of Minseok's thighs, reaching around again, this time teasing at Minseok's rim with smooth, sure fingers. It does him in. Minseok spasms, crying out as he comes, and Luhan bears off, mouth open and panting, letting the white ropes come apart on his face, wearing a tremulous smile.

Then it's Lu's turn, and Minseok takes great care to be rough and reckless and devil-may-care while he's sucking Luhan off. It likely won't take much; his lover is painfully sensitive already, groaning loudly as soon as Minseok teases his tongue around the head of Luhan's cock. It's short, but memorable, Minseok spotting the telltale signs and letting his mouth go slack, enjoying the view of Lu's fucked-out expression, tinged with relief, as he groans out a release that's almost angry. But, like everything else about the man he loves, it's controlled. Barely. 

Minseok breathes in, swallowing, easing off of Luhan, kissing the side of his temple, letting his tongue pass lightly over the bead of blood still there. Luhan doesn't move, drained and weary in body and heart, until Minseok settles down against his back. They should probably both shower, but Minseok doubts that either of them could stand for very long right now. He only hopes that Lu can sleep without being violated by nightmares - apparitions, threats, dead fuckboys with holes for eyes. Whatever they have can be bloody, it can be dangerous, but it can't be frustrating. It can't be sad. It can't be out of control. If it is, that means Lu is out of control. And it's Minseok's job to keep him from spiraling off the rails. 

He'll look around tomorrow to scout the situation - he doesn't actually know if the boy is dead. He almost hopes not. Luhan will sleep better. And yet, if he isn't, they've made themselves an enemy. Maybe more than one enemy.

Minseok hears Luhan murmur, "Thank you," almost silently before his breathing becomes deep and even, and his muscles relax into a dreamless sleep. Minseok stays awake for some time, just watching, before he feels safe enough to follow suit.

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I feel like I should reiterate that I'm quite fond of all three of these boys and would never, ever want anyone to harm them - this is a piece of psychological horror, rather than some weird manifesto. These are essentially characters on a page, so please keep the line between fiction and reality very sharp and firm, as I definitely do.


End file.
